“Required?”
“Yes. It’s…an agreement of sorts I have with someone.”
“And creating gorgeous, breathtaking artwork doesn’t count as a real job?”
“To her, no. Not one bit.”
“How?”
“Let’s put it this way: if I came out and said I wanted to be a tattoo artist full time, she’d tell me I was a heathen and bound for jail.”
“What!” Haley doesn’t even phrase it as a question; it’s a cry of outrage. I’m right there with her.
“Yep. If I bought a motorcycle, I’d be a thug and destined to murder someone one day. She’s an exceptionally tough woman to sway.”
Haley snorts. “I’d say. I’m kind of sad for her.”
“Sad?”
“She’s missing out on a lot of awesome life and people thinking that way.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Haley stretches her neck once I let up on the airbrushing. My attention is automatically drawn to the movement. I have a sudden need to press my lips against the soft skin there.
“I think you should pursue it anyway.”
“I wish I could.”
“Your talent is far too inspiring to not be given the attention it deserves,” she says like I never spoke. “I mean, really, Gaige. You could be in magazines. You could be winning awards.” Nice, but not a necessity. “You could be changing lives. Youarechanging lives. Your art…” Her voice quivers, full of emotion. “It’s evoking. The way you grasp the simplest concept and bring it to life is…powerful. If I can see that from a photograph, I can’t imagine how seeing the real deal will make me feel.”
I have to squeeze the airbrush gun I’m holding in order to not drop it. I’ve always hoped you could see the story behind the tattoos I create, and Haley just proved me right. I know I have talent, and that’s not me being a conceited asshole, but I don’t know if what I do means as much to other people as it does to me and the person’s body I scarred it into. Having someone who’s never even seen my work in real life say something like that? Fuck. It’s…moving. It gives me a kick of assurance I wasn’t even aware I needed.
“Tucker.”
“Huh? Tucker?” she questions my sudden outburst. “Wait, your roommate slash bestie slash coworker Tucker?”
“Do you remember the tree you liked?”
“Loved,” she corrects. “The tree I loved, the one I created an entire story for in my head. The one that’s going to be stuck with me for a long time. Yes, I remember.”
“It belongs to Tucker.”
She gasps, and I’m barely ready, pulling back just in time as she jerks upright and twists her neck back to look at me. “Are you shitting me?”
I grin sheepishly. “No, Hales, I’m not shitting you.”
“So they know?”
“They…?”
“Your friends. Hudson and Tucker. They know the talent you have and you still work at that shop? Why haven’t they kicked your ass to the curb and forced you to do this full time?”
“They’ve tried, but I’ve been resistant. Trust me, it’s a sore subject with us sometimes.”
She suddenly smiles one of those private, personal smiles everyone does when you picture something in your head you don’t want to share aloud.
“What’d you picture?”
